Dumbledore's Grid
by Storm Karstark
Summary: Dumbledore's fight against Voldemort reaches far beyond just the UK. What happens when Jordan's father leaves Texas to find answers? Answer to a fic challenge; turned out better than expected. Transfer student fic, but not the normal special!powerful!OC.
1. Houston, TX

Dumbledore's Grid

The coolness of the tunnel was a welcome change from the summer sun as Jordan ran down the escalator. It wasn't going fast enough for her today. She mentally blessed whoever thought to build these tunnels. The humidity and heat of a Houston summer was a double-whammy she was glad she didn't have to deal with underneath the streets.

She sprinted past people on her way, taking care not to knock into anyone. _Only five years, and then I can Apparate,_ she consoled herself, as a stitch formed in her side. She skidded to a halt, briefly, next to a clothing store, examining the displays in the window. After a moment, though, she set off running again. _Late again. What's new…_

The McDonalds was a fair distance from the tunnel entrance she used, and she was thoroughly out of breath by the time she arrived. She figured she was late enough as it is; another few minutes couldn't hurt. She stepped in line and ordered a coke when her turn came around.

"Whoa. You a coin collector?" asked the boy behind the counter. She looked at him blankly, rummaging around her purse for a few dollars.

"Excuse me?" He pointed to her purse.

"Coins. Do you collect them? Those are awesome." She looked down and immediately hid the various Sickles and Knuts.

"Yes, sometimes. My Dr. Pepper?" He handed it to her, along with her change, and she walked away. She had forgotten to put the coins in a different purse; instead, she had just thrown them in while running out the door.

She walked into the restroom and found it blessedly empty of people loitering, waiting for their friends. She went to the very back, and found a dingy-looking stall door with a sloppy "Out of Order" sign hanging haphazardly off it. Looking around to make sure she was truly alone, she stepped in.

Once inside, Jordan felt safe enough to draw out her wand. She hastily tapped the flusher on the toilet, willing it to go as fast as it could. The toilet collapsed into the ground, and the wall opened out to reveal an almost painfully sunny open grassy square. She stepped through, and the wall closed up behind her, leaving a cheerful brick wall instead of the peeling plaster of the bathroom. She smiled, not minding the sun out here. Starway Park.

"Jordan! Jordan, what took you so long?" Jolie Edwards was waving frantically from the edge of the pristine square of grass, surrounded by shops that she was just itching to shop in.

"Sorry," she apologized, slurping some more of her soda. "I know, I'm late. But hey, I'm here, right? Where do you want to start?" Jolie bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Oh, I don't know. Wherever. What kind of coke?" she asked, gesturing to the McDonald's cup.

"Dr. Pepper."

"Can I have a sip?"

"Sure." She took a generous swallow and handed the cup back. "Let's go to Elymas's!" Remembering the pretty Muggle clothes in the store window she had stopped to look at, Jordan thought that browsing for robes at 'Mostly Magical Attire by Elymas' sounded like a great idea.

Excited as only two newly-teenaged girls can be, they walked down the cobblestone path and entered the graciously large, well-lit robe emporium.

"I wish this wasn't so expensive," Jordan muttered, discreetly checking the 42-Galleon price tag on a gorgeous velvet cloak. Jolie seemed extremely unperturbed by this, but then, she would be. She was the daughter of two considerably wealthy (though slightly unscrupulous) Muggles who did something on the stock market that, while causing the downfall of a major company and the unemployment of thousands, lined their pockets quite nicely.

Jordan herself was a half-blood. Her mother was a Muggle who had aspired to be the perfect housewife and succeeded admirably with Jordan and her two younger brothers, Glen and Bernard. Her father was a wizard who worked for the Supervision of Sorcery, Texas Division, in the Black Track, as it was commonly known. The Sirius Black Tracking Committee was its proper name, and her dad got to go to all sorts of interesting places on leads, like London and Nigeria. They all lived in a small apartment in downtown Houston, near the recently-abandoned Enron building, and Jordan and Jolie had just completed 8th grade at the Southern Day-School of Magical Instruction in the city.

"Oh, Jordan, look at this!" Jordan inspected the robes Jolie was pushing in her face: an imitation team jersey of Jolie's favorite Quidditch team: the Sweetwater All-Stars.

"That's pretty sweet," she said, not intending to make any sort of pun. "Are you going to get them?"

"Oh, I don't know, that's all of my allowance, and Mom and Dad have stopped giving me advances…" she chewed on her lip, but was only deterred for a moment. "I'll just bring them down here tomorrow and let them pay for it! I hope no one buys it, though…" Jordan highly doubted that possibility. Quidditch wasn't really that popular here, and no one wore team jerseys much, at any rate.

Jolie did end up spending a good deal of her allowance at Sorcerer's Sweets, nearly buying the entire stock of gummy slugs, her favorite. In a rare fit of generosity, she let Jordan share in the sugary bounty as they window-shopped for the rest of the day, where Jordan fell prey to a great deal on her favorite color of ink (Five bottles of Mystical Magenta, only three Sickles, for a limited time only).

In another strange bout of charity, Jolie also agreed to walk Jordan back to her apartment, though they took the tunnel at a slower pace, trying to make sure none of their day's buys looked out of the ordinary to the Muggle populace.

"Ma! I'm home, and Jolie's with me!" she yelled as she closed the apartment door and locked it behind her. Her mother rushed out of the kitchen, looking slightly flustered. Jordan frowned slightly. It wasn't like her mother to have so much as a hair out of place.

"Oh, so you did meet up with her, did you? Hello, Jolie, honey, did you girls buy anything nice?" Jordan proudly showed off the good deal she got on the ink as Jolie launched into a spirited recitation of the Sweetwater All-Stars jersey. Jordan suspected this was a futile effort; her mom still wasn't fully incorporated in the wizarding world yet; at least, not so much as to pay attention to Quidditch teams.

"You're a Sweetie, Jolie? I didn't know that," said her dad, coming out of his bedroom, with Glen and Bernard clinging to him, aged ten and six, respectively.

"Yeah, I am, Mr. Havers! Have you been following them at all? I just know they're going to smash the Warriors in the international league this year—"

"Sorry, Jolie, I really don't keep track of them that closely."

"Oh." Jolie's face fell. "I forgot. You're a Quodpot fan."

"Somewhat. I'm sorry, Jolie, but you've caught us at a bit of a bad time. How about Jordan gives you a call later this evening?"

"Oh." Jolie's spirits drooped even more. "Uh, sure, I could do that. Jor, last chance for some gummy slugs?" Jordan took a couple more before seeing her friend out the door. Then she turned to her parents.

"What's going on? Why did you send her off like that?"

"Listen, Jordan, you know I never tolerated that tone from you before, and I won't now," said her dad sternly, in a voice that clearly showed he meant business, "now, come sit on the couch, I'm going to tell you what's been going on. Glen, Bernie, you boys go join your sister." Puzzled, she sat on the banged-up sofa, wedged in between her little brothers. Her dad squeezed himself in between them and ended up sitting on the coffee table.

"Okay, so what's up, dad? What's going on?"

"Now, I want you to listen very carefully, you three, because this is very serious. I just got word this morning at work: Sirius Black has been killed." Jordan perked up.

"But that's good, isn't it, dad? Didn't he kill a whole bunch of people?"

"I said to listen! It might be good for all the innocent people he could have hurt, but something is just wrong. Last we heard, the man was in Tibet, but now he suddenly shows up, killed, in the British Ministry of Magic. Something isn't right, so we're going to London for the summer. I have an associate who's been nice enough to help us find a place to rent for a short time—"

"We're going to London?" cried Jordan, "As in, England?"

"Yes."

"But what about your job, daddy?" asked Bernie, his eyes wide. "What will you do now?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm sure they'll transfer me to a new department. But we'll be leaving fairly soon. All the arrangements are made, so I want you kids to start packing." Jordan was more than a little irate.

"We don't get a choice at all?" she asked, miffed.

"I'm afraid not. I'm not leaving you alone in this apartment for the entire summer, and at any rate, we're moving out for awhile."

"Moving?" This was the final straw. "We're moving to England? But what about school? And Jolie? And…and…" she couldn't think of anything else to add.

"Well, we're only staying for the summer, you'll be back in time for school. If you're not, I hear that they have an excellent boarding school there that Glen will be old enough to attend…" Things were just getting worse and worse.

"You're going to send me to boarding school?"

"It's one of the most renowned schools in the world, but calm down, Jordan. Nothing of that sort has been finalized, yet."

"Can I stay with Jolie?"

"No. I'm not dividing up my family."

"What about your job?"

"Well, right now, I don't have one. But your mother has agreed to help out a little by finding work." That was something new. Her mom had never shown any interest in finding a job before.

"What would you do, mommy?" asked Glen.

"Well, I'm sure I could help in…in a library, or a bookstore, or something like that," she said, smiling pleasantly. Glen and Bernie seemed to be happier with the idea than Jordan was, and Glen immediately hopped up.

"Can I go call Ben and tell him?"

"Of course you can. Bernie, why don't you go to your room and start packing?" Glen ran off and Bernie climbed down obediently. Her dad turned to her. "Now Jordan, I know this may be difficult for you, but think of it as an adventure! And I promise, we'll move right back to Houston when I sort this all out."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"When are we leaving?"

"Next week."

"That soon?"

"I'd like to leave sooner, if I could, but that was as soon as I could manage. I want you to pack, and I want you to pack sensibly. You can't take every article of clothing and every item you own; some of it will have to go into storage. I want you to think about what you really can't live without. Understand?" She really didn't; why would he want to uproot and go to England, of all places? Why couldn't they at least go somewhere exciting, like Tibet?

"I think so."

"Good girl."

"Can I Floo over to Jolie's house?"

"No. You can tell her tomorrow. For now, I want you to get packing." Dejectedly, she slid off the couch and did as she was told.


	2. Going to London

A/N: This is just sort of a "test-run" on this story; feedback of any sort would be graciously received. Should I continue, or not? In the mean time, on with the story!

Chapter 2—Going to London

A week later, they all stood in front of Fireplace 21 in Starway Park's Floo Station, all carrying everything in the apartment that wasn't nailed down. They were far from the only ones; the family using the fireplace to the left of them had three girls, all younger than Bernie, and the girls had two large bags each. The parents had even more, it seemed. One girl had a Sweetwater team bag, with the stars flashing red, white, and blue. Jordan smiled, thinking of Jolie, and fingered the friendship bracelet that Jolie had given her. Jordan's father readied the pouch of Floo powder they had been given.

"Ready, everyone? We're going to the Ministry of Magic Atrium, London. I want you to say it very clearly, so you don't end up in another country. Understand? Glen, I want you and Bernie to Floo together, so he doesn't get lost. Jordan, you go after the boys, and your mother will go last. Be sure to hold on to your luggage!" Then, with a cheery smile, he took a healthy pinch of the powder and threw it in the fire. The flames flashed bright green. He stepped in, holding an assortment of bags. "Ministry of Magic Atrium, London!" Then he whirled out of sight.

"My turn!" called Glen, as he took a generous handful, just to make sure, and held Bernie's hand, along with his own bags. "Ministry of Magic Atrium, London!" He, too, was gone. Now it was Jordan's turn. She helped herself to the powder and threw it in. She didn't like Flooing all that much; it was far too messy. Perhaps that was why her brothers liked it so much.

"Ministry of Magic Atrium, London!" she called, in as loud a voice as she could. Then she was spinning, spinning out of control, it seemed. She kept a death grip on her suitcase, hoping nothing got lost. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering why it was taking so long. _Probably because it's long distance_.

She shot out of the fire like a rocket and sprawled face-first on the hard floor, her suitcase being unfortunate enough to break her fall.

"Daddy, Jordan made it!" called a black-smudged Glen, happily trying to pick his sister up. She brushed off his arms and staggered up, trying to get as much soot as possible out of her hair. Her dad came over to help.

"I don't know, Jordan, I think you look pretty nice with black hair like that."

"Ha ha," she laughed sarcastically, pulling a brush from her suitcase and running it through after liberally shaking every bit of soot out, until it turned to its original brown. "I just want a shower as soon as we get to this apartment."

"Anything for the princess. Oh, here's your mother. Before we go and get settled in, I'd like to meet my associate, Mr. Shacklebolt."

"I can't meet people looking like this!"

"Trust me, I'm sure he's used to sooty people showing up to work. Now, let's get going. Follow me!" It was then that Jordan examined her surroundings.

The ground she had so recently gotten acquainted with was dark, polished wood, and the fireplace they had emerged from was one of many that lined a magnificently large hall with a vivid blue ceiling decorated with moving golden symbols. The fireplaces were constantly in use; the one they had just used had seen three more witches and wizards since the Havers family. In the middle was a wrecked and ruined fountain. It was so badly messed up, she couldn't even discern what the original design had been.

"Ain't this something, y'all?" her dad said admiringly. Jordan winced. Since most Houstonians were thankfully bereft of the Texan drawl, she had hoped greatly that they would be able to blend in normally. Then her dad had to pull something like that.

"This place is a lot cooler than our Supervision, dad," observed Glen. Bernie nodded.

"Except for the fountain."

"Yeah, what's up with the fountain?" asked Jordan. Her dad shrugged uneasily.

"I…I think it might have something to do with Sirius Black…well, come on, kids, let's go." Jordan was following, when someone Apparated literally on top of her suitcase. It was a witch, a relatively young one, who went sprawling on the floor. Jordan looked at her, then realized the lady had bright pink hair.

"Oops! I'm so sorry about that, I just can't Apparate on-target to save my life!"

"How did you get your hair like that?" asked Jordan admiringly.

"Magic," she said, somewhat evasively. "Say, I don't ever recall seeing you around here…" Then her eyes widened. "Wotcher! Are you the American blokes Kingsley is meeting?" Jordan's dad decided to make an introduction.

"Good morning! My name is Kevin Havers, an associate of Mr. Shacklebolt's from the United States. This is my family: My wife, Anna, my two sons, Bernard and Glen, and the young lady you squashed would be my oldest daughter, Jordan."

"So good to meet all of you! I'm called Tonks." Bernie sniggered, and Glen kicked him. "Let me take you to Kingsley; I was on my way there, myself." Jordan was occupied with thinking of how odd it was to hear an honest-to-goodness English accent and of why their new acquaintance was called Tonks. She let Glen pull her along as she looked around the large room. She decided that the ceiling was her favorite, with it's nice color and the little golden symbols.

At the end of the hall, they entered through small golden gates, bearing a sign that said "Security". A bored-looking wizard in robes the same color as the ceiling.

"Step this way," he said, noticing that he had company. He passed a small golden rod over each of them, then asked for their wands. Her dad proffered up his wand first. The guard plopped it on a sort of set of scales. Then a piece of parchment spat out, like a receipt. The security wizard examined it.

"Beech, nine inches…spruithean spine?" This appeared to be a new term for the man.

"Yes. Spruithean. It's a desert gnome. You don't have them here?" The wizard's silence was enough confirmation for that, never mind the look on his face. "It looks like a cactus with legs. Disguises itself like that, you see? We use the spines for wands instead of unicorn hairs. No unicorns in Texas, I'm afraid…" Her dad laughed. The wizard didn't. Her dad stopped abruptly. "I assure you, it's a legitimate wand core. Would you like me to show you?"

"No need for that, sir. It's been in use for 48 years. Correct?"

"Yes, sir! That's correct. Jordan, now you. My wife's a Muggle, sir," he explained. The security wizard eyed her mother, but accepted Jordan's wand without comment. Just as before, a little slip of parchment came out.

"Ten inches, oak, phoenix feather, just two years of use. Correct?"

"Yeah," she said, taking her wand back. The security wizard merely ushered them through the gate, as though determined not to let foreigners with odd wands ruin his day.

"Where to now, Ms. Tonks?" asked her father politely. Tonks laughed, her shoulder-length pink hair swaying…Jordan blinked. Her hair hadn't been that long when she had Apparated on her…had it?

"Just Tonks, please! We'll have to use the lifts, and I'll take you to Kingsley's office; he's been expecting you."

"Lifts?" asked Bernie, puzzled. Jordan was a bit unsure, as well, until she saw that the lifts were merely elevators. They boarded, along with a small group, and Tonks pushed a button. The lift descended, until it shuddered to a halt, but not at their floor.

"My stop," grunted a wizard, and he shuffled through the crowd, carrying a small tin that was glowing slightly, as though radioactive. The golden grilles slid open.

"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau," said a female voice, like a television announcer telling you what show was on next. Some paper planes flew in, purple paper with purple letters along the side.

"Dad, this place is so awesome!" said Glen, jumping and trying to catch one of the planes. The plane in question hovered maddeningly just out of his reach, obviously teasing him.

"Stop jumping, Glen," their mother scolded.

"Level two," said the announcer once again, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

"This is us!" said Tonks in her ever-cheerful tone.

"Are you an Auror?" asked Glen, with wide eyes, as they departed the lift. Some of the planes flew out; others boarded.

"I am, actually; I work with Kingsley. Except I'm terrible at stealth, so they always give me desk work to do. I don't go out in the field much." She rubbed surreptitiously at her lower back, where she had landed on Jordan's suitcase. Jordan grinned.

They walked through large wooden doors, and stood in a large room separated into cubicles. Paper planes zoomed around, one narrowly missing Jordan's head on its rapid journey. People in the cubicles talked and laughed at each other, creating an almost unbearable din. Tonks led them over to a place that bore a lopsided sign reading "Auror's Headquarters".

"Shacklebolt! Your friends from America are here!"

Kingsley Shacklebolt turned out to be an extremely large black man, with an earring in one ear, and bald as a cue ball. Jordan felt her eyes widen slightly. He was quite an impressive sight.

"Mr. Shacklebolt! I'm Kevin Havers, from the Sirius Black Tracking Committee, Texas Division, American Ministry of Magic."

"Of course," he said, in a deep, smooth voice. "You're right on time. Is this your family?"

"Yes, yes! This is my wife, Anna, she's a Muggle. These are my children, Jordan, Glen, and Bernard."

"Pleased to meet you all." Kingsley took a good look at Jordan. "And how old are you, young lady?"

"Thirteen," she replied, somewhat nervously. She appeared to be the only one, however.

"I'm ten!" said Glen, without even being asked.

"I'm six!" piped up Bernie, loath to be ignored.

"Have you talked to Albus Dumbledore about enrolling them in Hogwarts?" he asked her father. "It would be an odd situation for your girl, to be sure, but little Glen here would just be starting…"

"Well, I intend to be back in Texas before the summer is through, but thank you for asking."

"Don't be so sure," said Kingsley, somewhat cryptically. "There's more going on here than Fudge lets out."

"Which is precisely why I'm here," her dad said briskly. He then turned to her mother. "Anna, why don't you go find the apartment with the boys?" Jordan stood a bit straighter.

"What? I want to go to the apartment, dad! I want to get all this soot out of my hair, remember?"

"You'll have a chance, don't worry. I just want you to stay with me."

"You mean that's not your natural color?" joked Tonks. Jordan gave the woman her best glare.

"No, what's yours?" she asked impudently.

"Jordan! You will not be rude to people you hardly know, in my hearing or out of it. Apologize, please." Jordan sighed, embarrassed at being chastised in front of adults.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Tonks. I meant no disrespect."

"Of course you didn't," she said gently.

"I'll…see you at…home, then," said her mom tentatively. "Come on, boys. Glen, stop chasing that paper plane and come with me. Bernie, stop climbing on your brother! Come here, you two…" she left, herding her youngest children back towards the lifts. Glen, it appeared, had successfully intercepted a plane, with Bernie's help. After being pried out of his fist, the slightly-crumpled message flew in a decidedly lopsided manner towards its original destination.

"I'll show you and your daughter Diagon Alley when we're done talking," said Kingsley. "She should like that."

"Diagon Alley?" she asked, rolling the new term around in her mind, "what's that?"

"It's like Starway Park, only in London."

"Oh. That doesn't sound too bad," she conceded.

"Now then. Come into my office, and I'll answer an preliminary questions for you."

Kingsley's cubicle was completely wall-papered in pictures of Sirius Black, which had a decidedly creepy effect. Jordan didn't like the way he looked at her from all directions, even if he was dead.

"Well, Mr. Shacklebolt, I'll be frank with you," said her dad, once they had all squeezed in and sat down, "I find this all very fishy. Last report from your office, Black was in Tibet. How is it that he ends up dead in your Ministry?"

"He was killed by You-Know-Who," said Kingsley, just as frank as her dad had been. Jordan cringed and scooted closer to her father.

"Maybe I should have sent you with the boys. You-Know-Who? Are you sure?"

"By a Death Eater under his command. But he was in the building."

"It's true, then. You-Know-Who is back."

"Yes." Jordan held her dad's hand, and he gave it a squeeze.

"I was afraid of that," he said. "You're sure? Of course you are. You wouldn't say that if you weren't. But I don't understand; didn't Sirius Black work for You-Know-Who?" Kingsley and Tonks let out a sigh at the same time.

"No," said Tonks. "Sirius Black was completely innocent of all charges."

"He was…innocent? Then why on Earth where we supposedly chasing him all over the planet? You've cost my department untold amounts of Galleons and work hours—"

"Please, Mr. Havers, we had our reasons. Do you remember the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I've heard of it, yes."

"It was formed again, while our Minister was in denial. You-Know-Who has been back since last year."

"Last year!"

"There was no proof of Black's innocence, not while Fudge refused to budge. Black was actually working for the Order. He was killed by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, while Harry Potter was battling You-Know-Who."

"Harry Potter. Of course. How old is he?"

"Nearly sixteen. He attends Hogwarts, as well." Kingsley and Tonks traded glances. "Mr. Havers, why don't you come with us? Take your daughter, if you wish, but she won't be included in the discussion." Jordan thought that was unfair. If glorious Harry Potter could battle You-Know-Who at sixteen, why couldn't Jordan join their talks at thirteen?

"I understand. Go where?"

"Our headquarters. The Order's headquarters. But, please understand, Mr. Havers…if you want your answers, come to the Order. If you come to the order, you'll be enlisting in our effort to fight You-Know-Who."

"But…but that means…"

"That means your vacation might go on a little longer than you planned. You have two choices: Join the Order, or go back to America. When it comes to You-Know-Who, there is no middle ground." Her father slumped back.

"I'll…I'll have to discuss this with my wife…my boys…"

"I understand. We'll be here when you've made your decision."

"Would you like me to show you out?" asked Tonks. "It's the least I can do, after landing on your daughter like that."

"Thank you very much, but we can find our way out on our own." Her dad sounded older than she had ever heard him sound. They were silent in the lift, and they were silent in the Atrium, until Jordan finally spoke when waiting in line for a fireplace.

"So…dad. What are we going to do? You promised we could go back to Texas."

"I said we'd go back when we were done."

"Dad, no, you're not going to join this Order, are you? I mean, fighting You-Know-Who? You could get…" she couldn't bring herself to say the word "killed".

"Nothing's decided yet. I'll have to talk this over with your mother." Jordan knew that couldn't bode well. What did her Muggle mother know about You-Know-Who? Jordan tried to think of how she was to explain this to Jolie.

"Dad…I want to go home. I don't want you to fight…him. I mean, if you get killed, what's going to happen to Mom? And me, and Bernie, and Glen?"

"I know, Jordan, I know. Let's just get you to the apartment; you can wash out your hair." Suddenly, sooty hair didn't seem so earth-shatteringly important anymore. She pulled her suitcase along behind her, ignoring the few odd looks she got, pulling a bright yellow suitcase down the streets of London. What if You-Know-Who came after them? Evil wizards were just fine when they were across the ocean from you, but it was something different being on their home territory. Why would he want to send her to school in a country with a terrible wizard that seemingly couldn't die coming back into power? Surely he would see the sense in sending her back to Texas, to live with Jolie and go back to Southern Day-School. Her dad was a sensible enough man; he wasn't seriously considering risking his life and that of his family's, especially Glen and Bernie's. Most especially hers. She felt somewhat better, now. If she could reason all this out, she was confident that he could, too. In fact, she was sure that as soon as they had re-bought their apartment and sold this new one, they would be in the next fireplace back to Texas. She picked up her pace a little, not wanting to get lost on these busy streets. _Don't worry_, she told herself, _we'll all be leaving soon. I'll never have to learn my way around London._

The apartment - they called them _flats_ here, just like elevators became _lifts_ and sweaters became _jumpers_ - wasn't all that bad, she had to admit; it might even have been a little larger than their old one. She set up her room as sparsely as she could because, as she told herself, she didn't want to spend too much time re-packing. She jotted a quick note to Jolie, telling her that they would probably be coming home soon, and not to worry. Then she remembered that the family owl, Sonnet, was currently on a delivery. She sighed and put the note aside. Her father came into the room after dinner, and looked at her silently. She looked at him, also silent, waiting for him to say it…

On September 1st, she stood at King's Cross Station, in between platforms 9 and 10, holding Glen's hand.


	3. Platform 9 34

Chapter 3—Platform 9 ¾

Her mother fussed over her children, as she always did, straightening Glen's collar, yanking a brush through Jordan's hair—in the middle of the station!—one last time, asking them if they'd both packed enough socks and underwear. Bernie was in a sulk over not being able to go with his brother and sister, until Glen promised him that he could have all of Glen's toys until the holidays. This seemed to satisfy him, and he didn't complain when he was told to stay behind with his mother. Kevin Havers would be escorting his children to the platform.

Nervousness gnawed at the pit of Jordan's stomach, until she felt quite ill. It wasn't the passage through an until-then-solid wall; the Southern Day-School she had formerly attended involved a daily plunge underneath the steps of the Alley Theatre. No, the sickly-worried feeling that made her want to hide behind her daddy until she was back in Texas was her situation. Glen was lucky; he might attract some notice for being foreign—doubtful—but she had to enter the eighth grade again! Well, it was the third year, here, but she tried working it out in her head, and she was fairly certain that she was repeating a grade. _But what if they study different things_? her niggling inner pessimist whispered, _you could be completely behind!_ Not only that, but she entered in the third year, with a class that had already been together for two. Would they be friendly? Or would they merely stay with their established friends? Jordan didn't make friends very easily; she only met Jolie because of a partner activity in the fifth grade. Jordan never would have been able to approach someone so rich and well-liked. She had a sinking feeling that it would be the same here.

_Just talk to someone,_ she told herself. _Don't be so silly. No one's out to get you._ She chickened out. She hauled her trunk to an empty compartment, then helped Glen with him. Her father had insisted on coming almost a half an hour early, so there weren't very many people about. She wondered how full the train would be with everyone on it.

"Jordan, isn't this cool? I've never been on a train before!" said Glen excitedly. She wished she could share his excitement. All she felt right now was a bit sick.

"Neither have I," she said quietly. His sister's mood didn't seem to rub off on him. He kept talking.

"I mean, I rode the Metro all the time, but this is different from the Metro. No one could drive into this one, I bet!" That much was certainly true. Large and maroon, probably with a whistle to burst your eardrums, there was no way anyone could be stupid enough to pull a right turn into _this._ She checked her watch. 10:45, and the station was beginning to fill with more and more parents and students of all ages. It was easy to see which groups were first-timers and which were old hands. The first-timers acted much like her mother, pinching the cheeks of their oldest child, maybe clinging to the hand of a younger sibling, tears flowing freely. The old hands had a ready-made checklist of small necessities, no tears, and an impatient older brother or sister pulling the newest student on to the train. _That should be me,_ thought Jordan, watching an older sister put a younger brother through his paces. She remembered when Glen started kindergarten back in Houston, and how much fun she had scaring him about teachers and giving him the wrong directions to the cafeteria. It was odd to be in the same position, for once. _We're in this together, _she realized. She looked to her father, who was sitting silently in the compartment with them.

"Dad?" He looked at her, giving a fake happy smile.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I…I think we're all right. You, Mom, and Bernie can go home. We'll see you in June." He looked concerned.

"Are you sure? This will be a big change for you, I don't want you to get upset or lost…" Glen bounced in his seat.

"We're all right!" Jordan drew herself up, hoping to be the picture of cool sophistication to contrast Glen's earnest joy.

"Dad, you can't be with us everywhere, now. Hogwarts is a boarding school, of course it will be different. But we're not alone. We have each other." His smile looked a little more realistic, this time. He kissed her on the forehead.

"My, but aren't you growing up! You're becoming so mature, little Jordie." She wrinkled her nose at the baby nickname. Her father stood, kissed Glen's forehead, and opened the compartment door. "Have a good time, you two. Stay out of trouble, pay attention to your teachers, and make lots of new friends. I love you both, write often." He stopped. "Your mother really is better at this than I am. I want to hear all about your first day, all right?"

"Bye, daddy! Have fun with the Order!" Glen didn't quite understand the implications of the Order of the Phoenix. Jordan, however, knew all to well. Her chin began to quiver with the effort to keep the smile on her face. Her father was better at this than she was.

"I certainly will. Good-bye, Glen."

"Good-bye, Daddy," she whispered.

"Bye, Jordan. You'll have so much fun, you won't even notice when it's June. Good luck." And the door clicked shut behind him. Jordan looked out the window, and she waved as he exited the platform, joined by Glen. When he was out of sight, she pulled Glen down, so he was sitting next to her.

"Glen…"

"Yeah?" He was still happy. Why was he always happy?

"Listen…you know I'm your big sister, and I always will be, but…" She chewed her lip, unsure of how to continue. "Well, in Hogwarts, I'm like a first year. I don't know any more than you do. So it's almost like we're not brother and sister anymore. Well, what I mean is…let's look out for each other, okay? Help each other?" She had startled him into seriousness.

"Oh. Yeah, duh, of course, Jordan. Does this mean you don't want to admit I'm your brother?" She jerked him into a headlock and gave him a rough noogie.

"Of course not, doofus! I'm proud to be your sister, sometimes. I'm just saying that things are gonna be a little different from now on. I can't show you the ropes."

"Well, I knew _that_," he said, wiggling out of her grip. "We'll stick together, you'll see. This'll be fun. I wonder what they teach here…"

"Magic," she said practically. "It can't be that much different, right?" She heard the words, in her own voice, but she wasn't quite sure she believed them. They seemed to soothe Glen, however, so she continued on. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even know more than they do."

"Or less," he said, squirming in his seat.

"Well, maybe you'll know more in some areas and less in others. We can catch up. We're smart. I bet you'll make so many friends, you won't know what to do with them all. One of them can probably help you if you're struggling. Or I can. I bet I could."

"But who's going to help you?" he asked. She shrugged uneasily. Sometimes, she didn't like being the oldest.

"Me, I guess. Or I'll make friends, too. Or I'll study very hard."

"You, study? You _hate _studying." She frowned at him. It was true, to an extent, but that didn't mean she liked being reminded of it.

"Well, I'll study anyway. And I'll make sure you are, too. If you aren't doing your homework, I'll owl Dad." He stuck his tongue out, but it was a good-natured ribbing. Did her brother always have a sense of humor? Jordan had never been especially close to her siblings; after all, they were _boys_, and young ones, at that. Besides, she had Jolie if she ever needed companionship. She was just beginning to realize that Jolie wasn't here anymore, and wouldn't be for the rest of the year.

She had received an owl from Jolie a few weeks ago, a reply to the one she sent reporting her tale of woe, how they were now living in London and attending Hogwarts. Jolie's letter had a distinctly glum tone to it, saying that it was utterly tedious in her absence (Jolie must have been reading the thesaurus again) and that she, Jordan, was to give a full report on all of the cute boys she was going to meet, as well as a run-down on all of her teachers. _I suppose,_ it read, _that you can make more friends. But make sure they aren't better than me!_ Typically Jolie. She had included a picture of herself, and Jordan kept both that picture and the folded-up letter in the pocket of her robes. She had a feeling she was going to need all the courage she had for what came next.


End file.
